


Too Long

by VillainousVixen



Category: Nikita (TV 2010)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-17
Updated: 2015-05-17
Packaged: 2018-03-31 00:54:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3958360
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VillainousVixen/pseuds/VillainousVixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Birkhoff knew he would regret it. Nikita would hate him for the rest of his life. And if Michael found out, the rest of his life wouldn’t be much longer. But it had been too long, and he couldn’t help himself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Long

            It hadn’t been very long since Nikita and Birkhoff had returned to the US, minus Michael. Every night since that had left him in London, with his son, Nikita and Birkhoff had gone to bed in their respective rooms.

            Every night since they’d returned, Birkhoff had been woken up in the dead of night, by Nikita, crying out at her nightmares.

            Every night he had gone to comfort her, and ended up falling asleep beside her.

            This particular night though, they hadn’t even bothered to pretend that they were going to sleep in separate rooms. Nikita had taken his hand, and pulled him to her room, and settled into his arms for the night.

            She’d fallen asleep like that, listening to the sound of his pounding heart and his voice whispering into her ear. But sometime in the night she’d rolled away from him, curling in on herself.

            And Birkhoff couldn’t sleep. He propped himself up on one elbow and looked down at Nikita’s sleeping form. Her hair had fallen to one side, revealing the tantalisingly soft skin at the nape of her neck. And he longed to reach out and touch her.

            Lying beside her, Birkhoff realised just how long it had been since he’d shared his bed with a women. And lying beside the beautiful young woman wasn’t helping matters much. He had survived months, perhaps even years (he’d lost count) with nothing but his own hand and some cheap porn to relieve his sexual frustrations.

            Now, finding himself in Nikita’s bed, he felt the coil of lust curling up in his stomach. And he cursed himself, because the beautiful woman beside him had no interest in sharing any relationship with him, other than the platonic friendship they had shared for the last few months.

            He knew he would regret it instantly. If the guilt that he knew would stick in his throat wasn’t enough, Nikita would make sure he regretted it for the rest of his life. And when Michael found out, the rest of his life wouldn’t be very much longer.

            But still, there it was, the aching desire building in his stomach, and he was so tired of fighting against it. Gently, he pushed Nikita’s hair further aside, and pressed his lips to the skin at the base of her skull.

            He pulled back almost instantly, as if the softness of the skin there had shocked him. Birkhoff looked down at her and thanked a God that he didn’t really believe in that she was still asleep.

            If he stopped now, if he turned away from her and went to sleep, she would never know what he was thinking. She would never know that he’d even thought about her like that.

            But then Nikita let out a soft sigh, and the sound shot straight to his groin and added to his throbbing hardness.

            Nikita turned over, another breathy moan slipping from her lips, and Birkhoff told himself to move away. But then Nikita’s body was curling around his, and he was sure she was dreaming of Michael, but the soft weight in his arms wasn’t do anything to help the problem growing in his boxers.

            “Nikki…” he whispered, daring to lean in and brush his lips against the side of her neck.

            “Nerd,” her voice was still thick with sleep, but Birkhoff could hear the tell-tale hints of lust and desire weighing in it. “What are you doing?” she asked.

            “Something I should have done a really long time ago,” Birkhoff answered, as if that explained everything, and before he could think too hard, before he could change his mind, he pressed his lips against hers.

            Her lips were soft, but firm against his, and Birkhoff tried not to pull back at the surprise of her lips moving with his.

            “I’m sorry,” he whispered, when he finally managed to break away from her. He closed his eyes, unable to meet her eyes, and he waited for her to swear or shout or punch him.

            Nothing happened.

            For the longest moment the whole room was still, Birkhoff waiting on edge for her reaction.

            Finally he dared to open his eyes again.

            “What was that?”

            “If I have to explain, I must be doing something wrong,” Birkhoff teased. He ran his fingers along her cheek, tracing the curve of her jaw, and waiting for her to stop him.

            “Birkhoff…” Nikita’s voice came out softer than he’d expected, more a sigh than anything else. “Please…”

            “Do you want me to stop?” he asked. “If you want me to stop, I need you to say it.”

            “No,” Nikita shook her head. “Don’t stop. Just…” she stared into his wide eyes, and tried to decide what she was going. “Kiss me again.”

            Birkhoff had never been able to refuse Nikita anything, and he wasn’t even especially keen to refuse her this. So he kissed her again, and as he did he slipped his hand under the silk camisole she wore and cupped one on her breasts in his palm.

            He rolled her hard nipple between his fingers, pinching just a little too hard, and Nikita arched her back to press forward into his touch.

            Birkhoff swallowed the sound that escaped her throat, and Nikita clawed at his back desperately as she pulled him on top of her.

            Nikita rolled her hips, pressing up into Birkhoff’s throbbing erection, and she smiled at the sound he let out when he broke the kiss.

            “How long as it been for you?” she asked, sliding her hand down his bare back to rest at the waistband of his boxers.

            “Too long,” Birkhoff whispered, trying to keep his hips still, despite his desperate desire to move against her.

            Before he’d realised she was moving, her hand was sliding down his chest and into his boxers, and he gasped as she wrapped a tight fist around his erection. He tried not to move, but he couldn’t stop himself from thrusting into her hand.

            Every so often she would loosen her grip, only to tighten it again when he made a desperate sound deep in his chest.

            “Nikki…” Birkhoff buried his face in her shoulder, kissing the soft skin he found then. Nikita swore when his teeth grazed against the skin, but she didn’t tell him to stop.

            Instead she just tightened her fist, and moved her hand a little faster.

            “Oh, fuck, Nikki,” Birkhoff muttered against her shoulder. “You have to stop that.”

            “Do I?” Nikita teased, twisting her hand. Birkhoff tightened his hand on her hip so much that she knew she’d have finger shaped bruises there the next day, but she didn’t push him away. “Not yet,” she warned him, when he swore against her skin again.

            “What?” he muttered, not entirely following her train of thought. But he couldn’t keep up with her outside the bedroom either, so it wasn’t any surprise. “Talk to me, Nikki,” he pleaded, desperately pushing forward into her hand.

            “Not yet,” she whispered, running her fingers through his hair. “I want you to explode inside me,” she told him.

            Birkhoff’s brain shot circuited at that, and all he could do was groan into her skin, as she pulled him closer.

            “Off,” he muttered, tugging at the hem of the silk camisole. She reached for it, tangling her hands in his as they both wrestled to the pull the silk over her head.

            Tossing it aside, Birkhoff returned his hand to her breast, squeezing the soft flesh.

            “Nikki,” he whispered, sliding his hand down her washboard-stomach. She shivered, goose bumps rising on her skin as his fingertips shot electricity through her.  “Tell me, Nikki…”

            “Please…” Nikita caught his wrist and pushed it further down, until his fingers glided over the wet flesh. She groaned, shoving her hips up against his hand, and the sound went straight to his groin. “Need you…” she pleaded.

            “Are you sure?” Birkhoff asked. “Because if you don’t say so now, I don’t know if I can stop.”

            “I don’t want you to stop,” Nikita told him. She tangled her fingers into his shaggy hair and tugged his lips down to meet hers.

            Birkhoff groaned when Nikita’s tight heat closed around his length, pulling him in. She rose her hips, meeting each of Birkhoff’s deep thrusts.

            “Oh fuck,” she groaned when one especially hard thrust slammed him against just the right spot.

            “Nikki?” Birkhoff prompted, stilling his hips – although he wasn’t sure how he found the strength to keep still while he waited.

            “Faster,” she whispered. “Harder and faster.”

            Birkhoff nodded against her neck, and his hips snapped back and forth with enough force to make Nikita cry out with the feeling of him inside her.

            Birkhoff swore against her neck when she tightened her muscles around his erection. He could feel the tension coiling in the pit of his stomach, felt his own muscles tensing, and knew he was hovering right of the edge of climax.

            Desperately, he slipped his hand between them to where their bodies were joined, and pressed his fingers against her clit. She swore, her back arching and pressing her chest to his almost violently.

            “That’s it, baby,” Birkhoff whispered, pinching the sensitive bundle of nerves with almost enough pressure to make her sob. “Come with me, baby,” he added, tightening his fingers.

            The pressure was just right, and it sent her spiralling over the edge into an earth-shattering climax. She clung to him, her nails biting into his back, and rode the waves as they rushed through her with so much force her whole body trembled.

            The feeling of her muscles tightening around his erection made Birkhoff swear again, and the coil of pleasure in stomach snapped, sending him headlong into his own climax.

            Birkhoff didn’t want to collapse on top of her, for fear that he would hurt her if he did, but Nikita just wrapped her arms around him and pulled his weight down on top of her body.

            “That was…” Birkhoff nuzzled her neck, nibbling on the soft skin he found there.

            “Yeah,” Nikita murmured. “Are you gonna stop watching me and try to sleep now?” she asked. “Or…”

            In one skilled move she wrapped her leg around his hips and flipped them over.

            “Do you think you have it in you to go again?” she teased, pressing her hips down against his.

            “Tired,” Birkhoff answered. But when Nikita started moving her hips against his, he felt all the blood in his body rushing south and betraying him.

            “I think you have one more round in you,” Nikita smirked, when she felt his erection pressing against her. “Please?”

            “Well, how can I refuse a woman who says please?” Birkhoff chuckled, and rose his hips to meet hers.

*

*

*

            Birkhoff was awake before the alarm rang. He and Nikita were still tangled around each other, and he was watching her sleep. She looked sated and dishevelled, and – if possible – even more beautiful than she had the previous night.

            He was afraid to move, in case he disturbed her, but she stirred after a short time anyway.

            And the guilt took a hold of her before anything else.

            “I’m sorry,” she whispered.

            “I’m sorry too,” Birkhoff told her. “Actually,” he sighed, after a moment of silence, “I’m not sorry. Not even a little bit. And I won’t pretend that I am. Last night was…”

            He couldn’t find the word. He didn’t think there was a word for it, not one word that could cover the expanse of what he had felt the previous night.

            “Intense,” Nikita supplied. It wasn’t enough, but it wasn’t wrong either. “I can’t remember the last time someone made me feel like that.”

            “Not even Mikey?”

            No sooner than had the words left his mouth, Birkhoff regretted them. Nikita winced, visibly, and he wished he could take it back. She didn’t answer, but he knew.

            “I’m going to take a shower,” Nikita muttered. She rolled out of bed and pulled in her robe. When she reached the door she turned back, leaning on the frame, and smiled. “You could always join me…if you like.”

            She walked away before he could answer.

            Birkhoff stayed where he was, the sheets tangled around his body as he reached for his cell phone on the bedside table. He looked at it for a moment, trying to ignore the lust curling up in the pit of his stomach, and the heat that was pooling in his groin.

            Nikita was vulnerable, he tried to tell himself. Being on the run was difficult, and she was missing Michael more than she was willing to admit. But the sound of her invitation, and the smirk on her face when she’d said it, was dancing around in his head.

            “Fuck it,” he tossed the phone back onto the table and rolled out of bed.

            Steam was pouring out of the bathroom and filling the hallway, and it wrapped itself around Birkhoff and drew him closer to the room. He leant on the doorframe for a moment, watching the water rolling over Nikita’s slight frame.

            “Now that is a sight,” he smiled. Nikita laughed, shaking the water out of her dark locks.

            “Why don’t you come and see it up close?”

            Birkhoff wished he didn’t hesitate, but he couldn’t help it. His eyes stayed glued to the back of her, to the curve of her hips and the obvious muscles of her legs.

            “Didn’t anyone ever tell you that it’s rude to stare?” Nikita asked. “Join me,” she added, opening the glass door just a fraction. More steam flooded out into the room and yet Birkhoff could still feel the goose bumps rising on his skin.

            “Nikki, I don’t know if this is a good idea…” Birkhoff murmured, but he was already stepping towards the shower. “Michael…”

            “Is in London,” Nikita snapped. “With his family.”

            “He would kill me,” Birkhoff told her.

            “He wouldn’t dare,” Nikita answered. “We need you too much.”

            Birkhoff took another step towards her, but still didn’t step into the shower with her.

            “I need you,” she whispered, turning to face him. “Please.”

            Birkhoff almost didn’t hear her over the sound of the water. Nikita never said please, and she never asked for anything twice, so he knew he wouldn’t have another chance to say yes.

            Finally, with a sigh, he stepped out of his boxers and into the steamy shower.

            No sooner than he had closed the door behind him, Nikita was pulling his body against hers. The wet slip of skin against skin made him groan, and he wrapped his arms around her waist to keep from falling.

            He stepped forwards, pinning her against the tiled wall. She shivered and arched her back, pressing her chest against his, and he tangled his fingers into her messy hair.

            “How do you want it?” he asked, pressing harder into her soft body. She moaned against his neck, sinking her teeth into the skin hard enough to make him swear.

            “Hard, and fast,” she muttered. She ran her hands down his back to his ass, and pulled his hips against hers. “Now,” she added.

            Birkhoff just nodded, and pushed inside her.

            “Oh fuck!” Nikita gasped when he slammed forwards with more force than she’d been anticipating.

            Birkhoff went still.

            If it was possible she felt even tighter than she had the previous night, and she clenched her muscles around him.

            Nikita pushed her hips forward, making a desperate noise in the back of her throat as she tried to get him to move.

            “Please, Nerd,” she muttered. He just nodded, pressed his lips to the side of her neck, and shoved his hips against hers.

            The tight grip Birkhoff had on her hips was sure to leave bruises, but neither of them cared. When Nikita’s head fell back against the tiled wall hard enough to make the crack echo around the space, Birkhoff slowed his movements, but didn’t still.

            “It’s fine,” Nikita assured him. She pressed her fingers to the back of her head, and when they didn’t find any blood, she pressed them back into his hips. “I didn’t say stop,” she told him.

            So he didn’t.

            Birkhoff’s hips moved against hers with a dizzying force, and she clung to him as he moved within her.

            It didn’t take long, but Birkhoff didn’t think he could have lasted very long anyway. He felt Nikita’s body tense and tremble under his hands, but no matter how hard he pushed into her, he couldn’t tip her over the edge.

            “Need more,” she ground out, through gritted teeth, burying her face in his neck and breathing in the scent of him.

            “Come on, baby,” he whispered, stroking a hand through her dripping wet hair. “Just relax for me, baby, let it all go,” he whispered. “Come on baby, come for me,” he pleaded. He was too close, didn’t know how much longer he could last buried inside her wet heat. Desperately he slammed his hips into her one last time, tugging on the hair that was tangled around his fingers.

            Turns out, that was all it took to send Nikita tumbling over the edge.

            But Birkhoff wouldn’t have noticed if she’d come or not, as his own pleasure exploded through his body.

            “Nerd,” Nikita couldn’t quite catch her breath, and Birkhoff realised that his weight was probably crushing her against the wall. “The water’s cold.”

            “Hadn’t noticed,” Birkhoff teased.

            “Clearly,” Nikita smirked. But Birkhoff turned the water off and opened the door to hand her a towel.

 

            Birkhoff sat on the edge of her bed while Nikita dressed. She didn’t say anything, but he could see what she was thinking.

            “When Michael comes home, this has to stop, doesn’t it?” he asked. For a moment Nikita didn’t say anything. The buttons on her jeans were suddenly the most fascinating thing she had ever seen.

            “Yes,” she finally answered. “I’m sorry.”

            “I’m not,” Birkhoff shook his head. “It was worth it.”

            “Mm,” Nikita nodded, tugging a vest over her head. “Nerd, he’s not home yet.”

            Birkhoff smiled, and Nikita tried to smile back, but they could both see it. Neither of their smiles reached their eyes. But neither of them said a word, and they both allowed the other to pretend that everything was ok.


End file.
